Let the Flames Begin
by Lady Kags
Summary: The Shadowed One is losing. Not only the war with the Makuta, but with himself. When Helryx assigns him to seek for a mythological island in hopes to slow the Makuta's conquest, he must also decide where his allegiance truly lies.
1. Chapter 1: Reign

**Disclaimer:** Bionicle belongs to TLC. Only thing that is mine here are the Dark Hunter's HB designs.

**Plot: **_The Shadowed One is losing. Not only the war with the Makuta, but with himself. When Helryx assigns him to seek for a mythological island in hopes to slow the Makuta's conquest, he must also decide where his alliance truly lies. Sometimes, the most vicious battles are within the soul._

**Notes:**

-This takes place during the war with Makuta, in a somewhat 'alternate' universe where characters are human and the current storyline has been slightly changed. Oh, and lots of grammar mistakes and awkward sentences. You have been warned.

-Characters are portrayed in human form.

-The quality of this work isn't high. Not to mean I was lazy, but because I'm using this story as a test-dummy per say. Experimenting on ideas, technique, etc.

Finally...I hope you enjoy. I'm not new to writing, but I am here, so I hope I'm doing everything correctly.

**Preface.**

When the storms and wars surfaced, they slunk cunningly across an unexpected world in shadows. Those small forgotten little islands with only slums and filthy crowds to comfort its lonely shores were trapped, like hostages, when it struck without warning. Little islands out in the distant sea, watching hopelessly as the mainlands were to be consumed first—and those frightened inhabitants waited for their undeniable doom, time became a slow ticking bomb—a bomb to release unreserved chaos as a mad tyrant with misplaced powers expressed his shrewdness and revenge.

Former enemies of significant power were no more than insects, and during this war, all were equal. Warlord or lowly matoran, they were all the same in a tyrant's eye. The Shadowed One, as conniving and as sly as he was knew this as he had hid amongst the crowds of suffering Xians. They all ran in a frenzy, matoran and vortixx, crying and collapsing—they wanted no more of the torture as their unwanted God lost patience of his squabbling bacteria. The Shadowed One's sharp red eye watched the clear skies be overtaken by the gloom of thick circling clouds, swirling in this lust as it darkened the dome. Through the clouds, there was a faint glimmer of light—but it was not welcoming. A light like a portal twisted into a maze, mesmerized within circling smoke. As the insensitive wind caused a shiver down the spine of the Dark Hunter leader, he almost saw an eerily grinning Kraahkan mask, just for a second in the sky. It had been staring right towards him.

Makuta knew everything now; he had gotten his long awaited rule, and now he would toy among the ones that once had the audacity to challenge him.

The Shadowed One stood there in the bloodied battlefield of the polluted island in Xia, as the sky seemed to give the skyscrapers a cold green gleam; an unwanted fear tingled in him as he tightened his grasp on his staff. Islands to control and hide within were growing slim. Alliances were shredding, innocent were dying, and both heroes and former villains disappeared, forgotten among conquered rubble. Mata Nui was gone, most likely dead—abandoning his people when they needed him the most. The Makuta was winning.

It was best to move on, and find a sounder place to stay hidden until he could regain his stature. And he would, if it would be the last thing the Shadowed One would do.

The lines between good and evil completely blurred away into a type of oppressed slaves; no more squabbles over land and petty materials, things were now much more insignificant. The Makuta betted against the universe and won. The screams would continue, until wills were cracked and blood covered the streets, and the entire world draped with a curtain of stillness. That time was coming closer, very close.

**Chapter I: Reign**

_I am the spy  
Before the blade  
I am the raindrop out at sea I cause  
The ripples that becoming crashing waves  
I am the rain, rain oh, rain oh, rain (reign) all day  
I am the rain  
~Reign - UNKLE_

**:::**

It was suddenly then, of all the places, that Lariska realized that she probably wouldn't make it out of the war alive.

Lariska stood on a beach in the early morning haze glaring out into the darkness, still in this lost sentiment that had grew on her over the months. Unsettled and lifeless as much as the ruins that lay about her, it was a disturbing emotion for the headstrong dark huntress.

Short black hair wisped around the front of her face, momentarily blocking her view from the despicable view of the dark atmosphere. She was at a small outpost that had been always owned by the Dark Hunters for years. The small trading post hid among clusters of empty island chains, forgotten to the rest of the world. Daxia was gone, Xia was conquered, Metru Nui unreachable, and no Matoran island wished for Hunters, they always seemed to attract trouble—which, they did. She didn't blame them. Now, however, no where was safe.

It was ironic how the least interesting place that the Dark Hunters controlled was one of the few sanctuaries. Though he had worded it differently, in his pitiful underhanded way, it was one reason why the Shadowed One chose this wretched place to hide and plan his next move—or just to hide, waiting until doom had befallen him. From what Ancient had told her when she had arrived the day before, he had not left his tent in days. Claiming to seek ways to end the war—he was sulking, she knew it. The coward.

She had only returned to this small unnamed island the night before, after assisting the resistance in the north with a ragtag team of rebels and the Toa Nuva. The ignorant heroes thought they were making a difference, but Lariska knew better. It will only be time until the Makuta can take full control.

Lariska's eye's flashed, and her senses tingled. She released herself from the pessimistic thoughts and swung around, clasping her dagger. But when she faced what had disturbed her meditation, she spat on the sandy ground, scowling.

"The Shadowed One is wondering where you are."

She hated when Ancient did that. Sneaking up on her, always around when she least expected it. He was too furtive for someone as sturdy and old as he.

"Tell him to look himself instead of sending you around; you're not his pet muaka." Lariska shot back, and returned her eyes to the unsettled dark waters. Finally, with a moment of hesitation she swung around and strode toward Ancient's form, his mischievous orange eyes studying about her.

"He's in a foul mood," he added.

"Do I look any better?"

He didn't reply, and instead extended his hand from his blue cloak he hid under, pointing toward the camp. Lariska immediately started walking, not giving a second glance to the second-in-command.

Like a ghost awakening from its grave, thunder rumbled from above. The skies continued to be suffocating and dark ever since the unending war began. The camp was small, quiet, and soiled. Only a handful of Dark Hunters worked from this station, and every time, less came back.

Some people might had found her cruel—she of all people knew she was, and _had_ to be—but this didn't excuse her emptiness and singe of defeat. It had grown on her especially after they lost Odina. A single raindrop hit the tip of her nose, and she cursed the monster who had started this. It was _his_ fault, all of it.

She came to one of the larger tents, in the centre of the small encampment. More droplets of water began to fall; the rain started to pad against the trees and tanned camp fabric. She removed aside the flap and entered in, followed by the towering Ancient, covered in his blue cloak and taupe hair in a frizz by the island's cruel humidity.

A plainly made desk at the far end of the tent with simplistic needs of what the Dark Hunter leader needed, and nothing else. The room felt somewhat uncanny, how the lamp light's flickered and casted shadows in the room. It was like being ushered into a physical form of misery; the misery all Dark Hunters had haunted the leader. Lariska's eye caught a sudden glimpse of Darkness, before he disappeared again into the shadows of the tent—behind the Dark Hunter leader, the Shadowed One.

For a second, it was quiet, but Lariska had no patience for it that morning. She butted straight to the point.

"Hello there, mighty one," Lariska spoke with a hint of mockery, breaking the silence. "It's not very polite to pull a girl straight from one mission, to a droll meeting with one like yourself, without even rest. What do you want?"

The Shadowed One was leaning in his seat, his head resting against his chest, his dark brown hair unkempt and ruffled into a rushed ponytail. For a moment, one might assume him asleep—that was ridiculous, however. One eye was forever mysterious behind his eye patch, and the other glared solemnly at a map sprawled across his desk.

Removing his attention from the chart, the Dark Hunter leader slowly looked up at her. Vagueness of his age seemed to lean more on the aging side at the moment. He was one to rarely sleep and always appear to be within a neutral, unchanging state over hundreds of years. Now, however, she wasn't sure what to make of this. Every time she saw him, he seemed to age more and more—the streak of grey in his hair and faint purple under his eyes became more dominant than ever.

"Lariska," he finally responded in the voice that hinted no weariness, unlike what his appearance illustrated. "I'm glad you could finally show up. How was the assignment?"

"If you're asking if I picked up any souvenirs, I did not. I departed with some of those Toa Nuva after fending off an attack of Rahkshi," she paused, and placed two trinkets on his desk—an insignia of sorts that all Dark Hunters wore. "We lost Guardian and Savage."

"Hmm," the Shadowed One mused, "not an extreme loss, yet, it is becoming quite a mess."

Rising slowly, the Shadowed One stood to full height and placed his hands behind his back, continuing to stare at Lariska. He suddenly pulled a letter out of his coat pocket and handed it toward Lariska's robotic hand. She glared at him, and snatched it away. Pulling out the tattered letter, Lariska skimmed casually over it. Her dull grey eyes faced the Shadowed One's impassive mood.

"And you really plan to work with her?"

"Helryx is a valuable asset," he said. "And of course, she is very persuasive."

"Oh," Lariska said, "I see. The Dark Hunter leader, getting threatened by an old Toa." She grinned savagely.

Usually, he would put up with her charade, but the Shadowed One did not look amused. He walked casually around Lariska, and then glanced at Ancient.

"Ancient brought it by this morning as he was doing an errand for me. She's called me for aid," he suddenly stopped pacing and faced Lariska, "she is getting desperate."

"Oh, gotcha. You're taking advantage of the situation, for a second I thought you really wanted to help."

"I have thought this over for a long time…we all want that abomination out of our universe—just some more than others."

His voice faded as thunder boomed menacingly, as if _he_ was listening. But it quieted down again, and the rain continued to pour.

"We leave in a few hours."

"Excuse me?"

"We will be leaving today, to the set meeting spot, to discuss what she is need of. Is this a complicated request?"

"I mean, you're going yourself? Are you really running out of stooges to hire?" Lariska scoffed. "Who's getting desperate, again?"

The Shadowed One leaned warningly towards her, his cool demeanor replaced with a crack of anger.

"I do not have the patience for your mockery, Lariska. Do as I say, or you may find another limb missing."

The threat took her off guard. Lariska stood there in abrupt stillness, her body stiffened, and a hand slipping closer to her belt that sheathed a kukri. Another moment in the uncomfortable silence, and she swung out of the tent.

The uneasy hush continued as the Shadowed One stared off at where she left. Finally, he slowly brought himself back in the chair, almost collapsing. His gloved hand rubbed his temple. He eyed up toward Ancient, who still stood beside the entrance.

"Watch her. She isn't acting like herself."

"She is more loyal than you think," Ancient replied, "anyone would be overwhelmed, Lariska is only human. Many have betrayed and disappeared into hiding. She still stays."

"And those who do try to betray me will face my vengeance when we dispense with Makuta." The Shadowed One fell silent, and continued to glare at the tattered map.

Ancient glared at him a long time, his face expressing mild frustration from his taut, dark-skinned features. The Shadowed One was in no state to argue with him.

"Leave me," he said finally with a wave of his hand, not even looking up at his subordinate.

It almost appeared he wasn't going to budge, but finally bowed, leaving the tent without another word. The Shadowed One was alone now with his thoughts—or that is what he liked to believe, as he eyed the shadows dancing in the room, almost playfully—almost mocking him. His hand clasped the desk ruthlessly; his red eye appeared to glint.

"You are testing my patience, Teridax. I lost once, I will not lose again."

**:::**

The island wasn't but a mile long and less than a half mile wide. It was barren and desolate. Nothing alive, and the only movement were dirt devils and unfriendly looking bugs that burrowed into the sand. Rumors had it that a small little Matoran village was on this island before Rahkshi ate through the land like acid. There was nothing but death here.

None of them expressed inviting appearance as the sun tried to shimmer through thin grotesque storm clouds. Toa Helryx, leader of the Order of Mata Nui, stood before the three in all her callous pompousness and cold hearted demeanor. Behind her, was the powerfully built agent Axonn, and the strange Johmak.

The Toa had summoned these dark hunters to assist her yet again, in this destiny war. Times were getting desperate, Ancient had pointed out to Lariska one day. She didn't really believe it was until lately—this confirmed it. Facing the Toa, and realizing for once in that moment of tensed silence, things were not all games. The Dark Hunters power was faltering, slipping away from the bloodied fingers of The Shadowed One like the sand on this Mata Nui forsaken island.

Helryx had taken matters into her own hands—to such grave obsession that no one was sure if she was all there since the war started. This was the first time they had met since the Dark Hunters had taken control of Xia.

She studied each of them carefully, with her ancient and keen blue eyes. Her mask power was not of mind-reading, but it was particularly supernatural how her gaze seemed to study into each soul without a moment of indecision.

She firstly faced Lariska, who seemed to hide behind the two towering males counterparts. Her frail body was deceiving. Her grey eyes, barely visible under the mess of her short black hair glared at her like a hawk. Belts covered her jumpsuit, and they all contained vicious forms of daggers; it would not be surprising that the assassin was likely the most dangerous.

Ancient simply stood there, obviously the tallest of the three. Shielded in his golden armor and wrapped in a large blue cloak, those eternal sharp orange eyes glared at the leader in an inexplicable way. Finally, Helryx slowly turned to face the one that stood a few feet before her.

The Dark Hunter leader was surprisingly cool as she seemed to look down upon him, and he allowed it—he could see her disgust in the way she frowned behind wrinkles and scars.

"Well," she finally started. "I am surprised you came at all. I'm glad you got the message."

"I was in the neighborhood."

"Is that so?"

"To business, Helryx."

"So polite," she said, "To business then. Are my previous threats for you to cooperate really that successful?"

A gust of wind came, whistling and moaning, stirring up the sand around their feet. The Shadowed One didn't respond, but the impatience kindled in his eye.

Helryx shrugged, and raised her hand. Axonn brought out a small scroll, placing it firmly into the woman's hand. She began to open it, took a few steps forward, and brought it a foot before the Shadows One face.

"This," she started, "this is what I need you to do."


	2. Chapter 2: Going Under

**Chapter II: Going Under**

_I'm going under  
Drowning in you  
I'm falling forever  
I've got to break through  
I'm going under  
~Going Under - Evanescence_

It was an atypical sort of request. The Shadowed One expected her to want the Dark Hunters hired for a covert mission, or assassination. Instead, he stared at a tattered old scroll. On it was a detailed drawn map of Destral, former capital of the Makuta. The Brotherhood of Makuta emblem was superciliously stamped on the top.

"Just another of thousands of maps the Makuta created. What are you showing me?"

"I found this during a…raid on Destral," Helryx answered, "this is a map, drawn by Makuta Teridax himself."

The Shadowed One took it from her, and studied over the torn piece of parchment. Ancient walked beside him, tilting down to look at it as well. Slowly, the two hunters' demeanor slipped into a barely noticeable uncertainty and confusion. The leader griped it tighter, his visible eyebrow burrowed. He read it twice, then a third time; he wasn't sure to stay quiet or laugh.

Behind the two musing hunters, Lariska grew irritated that she was left out. She pushed herself between the two, stealing the parchment and reading over it herself. She briskly laughed, doing the latter of the Shadowed One's thoughts.

" _'…and the people of my universe will soon know what it is fear when I have contained du-andi'._ This is a joke, isn't it old lady?" Lariska waved it in the air.

"I do not see what is so funny about the possibility of another superpower threatening us—or the entire universes being unraveled," Helryx retorted, "There is legend of that place, I'm sure you have heard of the bedtime story—if anyone ever told you those sorts of things. I never knew Teridax wasted his time over pointless myths, but for some reason, he found something."

"Found something? Like what, another planet? Alternate universe?" Lariska crossed her arms. "I knew Toa had eccentric imaginations, but this is ridiculous."

"You are somewhat right—it is an alternate universe."

Lariska entertained leer slowly reverted to a dull skepticism frown. She turned to face the Shadowed One.

"Can I kill her and get this over with? We should be doing something useful…like stopping him, instead of talking about silly myths?"

He shook his head, smirking.

"Not today. I am intrigued. Is this to get me out of your hair?"

"Honestly, yes," Helryx replied, "but, I don't think you realize what sort of alternate universe. It is by legend, the universe which guides all others. The unattainable…pawns are toppled when our own worlds fall…some say it is not even another 'world', but something completely indescribable. A void that houses all the powers imaginable. A large hypothesis filled with mysteries, but the only one some of the greatest minds have come to in the end."

Lariska was waiting for this to end up being a joke. But it seemed impossible that the female leader could even be capable of sarcasm. Helryx did not seem amused, but deathly grave. The Shadowed One realized what she was getting to.

"Makuta Teridax is trying to find this place," Helryx continued, "you think taking over the world, and killing Mata Nui was enough? He wants to checkmate the ones that control his own destiny. He is going to enslave every last sentient creature in this world—in this dimension. Maybe more. We already lost the battle, to him."

Ancient's expression was completely blank. Lariska scowled, glaring at the scroll in her possession.

"He is playing with cosmic powers?" The Shadowed One chuckled, "what is the proof, Helryx?"

"Do you wish to head back to my base and see the piles of scrolls and forsaken objects that he has on this matter?" She snapped, voice rising, "I do not want to play games with you. Whether he is, or he is not—I would rather be safe than sorry. He is still attempting to get used to controlling an entire world, we yet have a chance." She raised her head, and glowered. "I will do anything to stop this mad monster. I will even destroy this universe, if it comes to it. I will obliterate anyone that gets in my way."

She suddenly swung out her mace, pointing it straight at the Shadowed One's face.

"Too many are dying fighting this war. You will help me, or I will end you now, I will not waste my time with the imprudence of an egotistical maniac and his lackey buffoons."

Lariska snatched a pair of daggers from her belt, preparing to swing them straight into the Toa's face. Helryx's body guards admitted the tension, their hands carefully slipped down to their own weapons.

The Shadowed One, however, seemed unconcerned. His red eye faced Helryx without fear, his defiance challenged her. He tilted his head, careful to avoid the wrath of Helryx's mace, and put a hand on Lariska's stiff robotic arm that was clutching the daggers. He returned his attention to furious Toa.

"Yes, you have caught my attention, Helryx."

"Go to the southern islands and find the temple that is told on there." She lowered her mace, pointing at the scroll that lay on the sandy ground. "Find out what's there. If you must, destroy it. If this is all a joke, then we have one less thing to worry about. If you do this, I will make sure our relationship will be less…apprehensive."

"Is this a suicide run?"

"It depends on what you find," her eyes flickered, "and how long you want to stay here. This entire world is a ticking bomb, what does it matter if you die just a little earlier?"

The Shadowed One straightened his modish black trenchcoat, dusting off the sand that had begun to cling to it. He brought his hand back to Lariska, and the huntress grudgingly gave back the scroll.

"We'll see what we can do."

"Then I leave this up to you. I must depart immediately to assist in the liberation of Metru Nui. It is sad how I must rely on you like this."

"You cannot resist, I'm sure." The Shadowed One placed a hand on his heart, and continued to grin devilishly.

Toa Helryx ridiculed and turned around to leave in the direction of her ship. As Axonn and Johmak began to fade away in the sands flow, Helryx turned around and looked at the Shadowed One.

"Watch your back, hunter. Everyone is betraying each other. The Barraki have gone missing, most likely scheming against us. I even sense Nektann's allegiance with us will not be for much longer…this world's order is collapsing and the only thing holding it together is the fear that Makuta induces and our feeble wills against it. Do take care."

She walked away, footprints formed on the sandy path, and then faded as the wind began to blow again. The shadowy clouds came down, between the reflections of the sun. In a moment, they were just faded mirages on the uninhabited island.

**:::**

The vessel moved across the never-ending ocean with caution, carefully gliding its way through the unfamiliar and unreceptive silver waters. There was no life. No flying rahi, not even a glimpse of a fish. The air had a humid and tasteless sensation. Night was falling and the sun began to dip behind the horizon. To Lariska, for some reason, it felt that was going to be last sign of any light for a long time.

Overseeing the small group of Dark Hunters that came to assist in sailing the ship, Lariska sat on the bow of the ship, her feet dangling down over the watery abyss. Head focusing what lay before them, but her attention had been diverted to the falling of sun.

"He will fish us out like the sickly rahi that we are." Ancient had said the night before, his voice in a usual cruel, but amusing way. Sometimes it made Lariska goaded; sometimes it humored her in sour moods—but right now, she felt blank and apathetic. She sat, glaring out into the darkness, still in this lost sentiment that had grew on her over the month. Short black hair wisped around the front of her face, momentarily blocking her view from the despicable view of the dark atmosphere.

Lariska gripped her robotic arm, her rough pale hands feeling against the coarse metal surface. As she watched the last bit of the sun dissolve into the icy waters, and the cold darkness, the anxious fear kept into her veins. And for once, she craved so see light.

Jumping off the edge of the bow, she started to move around, flexing her muscles, trying to relieve the stress. Her hand took hold of the kukri dagger and swung it out. She looked at herself on the silvery iridescent reflection, staring at her cold, dead eyes. The crew smartly avoided her and did not dare to watch—they feared where the daggers would be thrown at.

She continued to do the only thing that calmed her, that gave her a sense of one thing she could masterfully control. She danced about, jumping and twirling as she became a mere extension of the blade. Usually these exercises relaxed her, but the longer she did it though, the angrier she got. Lariska snapped, clinched her teeth, and cursed. With all her might, she threw the dagger directly toward the cabin.

It didn't hit its intended target.

The Shadowed One stood there, his hand clasping firmly on the handle of the dangerous weapon.

"You're getting dull, Lariska," he said. "It was a sloppy throw."

He walked to her, his lean body covered in his trench coat and light armor. He brought his gloved hand out, handing her the weapon.

Lariska expected a trick—he was always playing games when she fell in these awkward situations. But he just looked down at her small nimble body, and gave no signs of any dexterity.

She snatched it away, like a hungry thief. She eyed the crew for a moment, but no one seemed to have become aware of the discomforting situation.

"Well?"

"I'm just tired."

The excuse was terrible and more awkward when said aloud. Lariska turned around and walked back toward the bow, her feet padding against the hollow-sounding wood. She heard him follow, and come right behind her. It made her stoic and tense. He had never…harmed her unless she deserved it. She knew he did this just to be an annoyance. She would never admit it, of course—no one would believe by her attitude. She fought the urge to shiver when he leaned by her ear.

"I hope this will not cause any problems on this mission."

"It won't."

"Your actions lately would not assure me of it."

"Don't test my tolerance."

"I think they should, if you are being so sensitive as of late."

A dagger was unsheathed, the blade whistled as it was pulled out. She held it at his neck, glaring.

"Shut up," she snapped, "You just think you're all that, don't you?"

"You would really kill me over this?"

Lariska sent a death glare toward a crew member that was gaping by the sails. The scrawny man ushered off to the other side of the ship immediately. She returned her attention to her 'leader'. Her grey eyes sparked, like a fire had ignited in them. "You think you're so good with words," she gritted, "and so charismatic—oh, just look at the wondrous and mysterious Shadowed One, grand and feared by all. So impervious…so handsome…" She leaned closer toward his face. "You make me sick."

He leaned closer, challenging her dare.

"You seem tense. I know how much you hate me, but never have you snapped." He placed a finger under her chin. "What's disturbing you?"

Lariska slapped his hand away, with her metal hand.

"You don't really care do you, about what's going on around you slimy rahi?"

"Am I interrupting something?"

Lariska pulled away, surprised. Casually, the Shadowed One looked over his shoulder at a bemused Ancient, removing his attention from Lariska—she spat. Not again.

"Yes, you did actually. Lariska was just telling what a wonderful person I was; you would be surprised at how pleasant she can be."

She pulled back the weapon quickly, her body cringed like a rahi in a trap.

"You two are morons with no common sense and I hope you die long and painful deaths."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." The Shadowed One said, and then turned around to walk to Ancient. The towering partner handed him a map, to which the leader promptly looked over it.

"The Makuta's map, it was this one," Ancient said pointing, holding a light stone to it. "Local fisherman called this the Kardas Nest—but there have never been any sightings of one."

"Kadas nest? Interesting name. Most likely an analogy, I've heard it used before."

"I don't like this."

"What?"

"This mission," Ancient replied, "it isn't right. Helryx wasn't acting right."

"Of course Ancient, you know her better than I," the leader mocked, "If anything, we'll be lucky to even find an island."

"Maybe we'll find a supernatural device that destroys egos." Lariska's cruel tone surfaced beside them, who seemed to be done pouting.

The Shadowed One raised an eyebrow "For who?"

"For Makuta, of course," she grinned innocently, as well as she could.

He shrugged, wrapped up the map and gave it back to Ancient. "Let's get prepared to meet with the rest of the troops."

It was Larisa's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Sorry, what?"

"I called for a small battalion of Dark Hunters that was near this area to meet us at this predestinated spot—" The Shadowed One began, "if you thought we were going to do this alone, that's absurd. We are not far from the point, actually."

"Why are you here anyway? You didn't say a word about hiring anyone else."

"Darkness assisted in the recruiting," he answered, "I got bored of my men making fools of themselves. If we're going to get anywhere in this destiny war, then I must get my hands dirty."

Somehow, the statement didn't assure her. The self-seeking, daughter of a rahi—he was just out here for the treasure, if there was such a thing. Lariska's ears literally ached from hearing his conceited voice.

"Uh…sir! There's something out there!"

One of the crew had yelled out from the mast; the discussion immediately ended, when they heard a squawk. Above them, a small cluster of birds flew over them in the night, flying ahead of something in front of their course. Where they nearing the island?

Lariska ran over to the bow, leaning against it, she strained to see in the darkness. She saw something that distorted against the sky and waters.

"Is it an island?"

The two followed her from behind, staring off mesmerizingly into the void that lay before them.

"Too small," Ancient said, "it's most likely the Dark Hunters." He turned his head upward to the mast.

"You! What is it that you see?"

"I…I can't tell," the grungy Dark Hunter responded. "It's too dark. But it's something large—a boat! Yes, it's one of ours, sir!"

"Where are the lights?" The Shadowed One snapped. "They should have seen us. Do Dark Hunter forces always act this childishly off on missions?" He paused and glared at Lariska. "Don't answer that."

Their boat slowly began to edge forward. The birds shrieked up ahead, the water crashed against the ship's side, wind moaned bitterly. Lariska clutched the railing tighter; she didn't like the situation at all. The rest of the small crew had stopped their duties, and had slipped closer to the boat edge to see. It was too quiet, too straightforward.

"Ancient, go see what's over there." The Shadowed One commanded. "If they are goofing off, I'll sink the ship."

Ancient shrugged, and bent down to activate his gravity controlled boots. Lariska squinted in the darkness, snapping orders in the process for the men to slow the ship. Her eyes followed Ancient's body as it gravitated over the waters. His golden armor shimmered, and then disappeared in the darkness.

The Dark Hunter leader strode to stand beside Lariska, and all she heard was that silence—that deadening, sickening silence, which just those ghastly birds squawking.

Another few uncomfortable minutes passed, and Ancient came stumbling back on the boat. He adjusted his boots, and then, very slowly, faced the Shadowed One.

"They're dead."

The two just glared at each other. Lariska eyed the hunter beside her; the menacing hatred that haunted his features came back. As if the reality of the world admitted him again to a dark state.

"Do you take me as a fool? They all cannot be dead!"

"They were dead, all sprawled across the deck—murdered."

He gritted his teeth, his breathing jaded and body shaking. Gradually, the leader looked back at the empty ship. Ancient eyed Lariska with uncertainty, and then the two watched their leader attempt to relax.

"Well. Well, then…we head to the ship and get any supplies—"

One of the crewmen screamed, and then there was an eerie splash. Something lurched, and Lariska watched with horror as the ship began to move on its side. As she began to fall from the force of gravity, she saw a tall horrifying object overshadow her. A great wave. In a split second, the deadly quiet waters had been awakened and a storm emerged as waves grew twice as high.

"Lariska, move!" Ancient screamed, but his voice was faded out over the roaring of the ocean. Lariska jerked to jump away—something struck her in the side of the head, and she heard the cracking and splintering of wood. Crewmen were yelling orders—then screaming uncontrollably in fear. She felt herself slip—her body exploded in pain, sharp cold needles pierced into her, vision blurred as her body was lurched down into the abyss of frostbiting waters.


	3. Chapter 3: Afraid This Time

_I am very sorry for the delay. I have been very ill lately, and the summer has been rough on me. I'm trying my best to get back into writing._

* * *

**Chapters III: Afraid This Time  
**

_This isn't easy to admit, but I don't think I'm believing it  
I'm afraid this time  
This isn't easy to admit, but I don't think I'm believing it  
It's not the same this time  
~Celldweller_

The world spun around with the fury of a whirlwind. Lariska thought for a second that she had drowned. She wasn't sure if she was really alive or not—her thoughts were obscure, but at the same time, she wouldn't allow herself to go that easily. Not like the rest of the puny crew—screaming like pitiful rahi, accepting an unsatisfying death.

She kept clawing, fighting against the darkness with her spirit, desperate to escape the paralyzing nightmare. Then, after striving so hard to reach any state to relieve her that she was still alive, Lariska felt something burning in her lungs. The physical throbbing ironically relieved her; she was still alive, but for how long? Or was this the first few steps into an eternity of lands worse than Karzahni? She panicked mentally, not sure what to do—abruptly, she was jerked up through the abstract blackness; time was flying backwards as her face rammed against the water and felt air break into her lungs. She tried to open her eyes yet again.

The second she did, a wave of dizziness erupted, and dark blurring shadows danced around her. She spit up a mouthful of stinging ocean water, gagging and shaking. The icy droplets clung to her, her entire body felt slimy and numb.

When her vision cleared, Lariska frankly wished she was unconscious again. She swept her body up with her dwindling energy and pushed The Shadowed One of off her. Ancient was standing behind, looking at her fixedly. Lariska had never felt so humiliated.

"So she lives."

"Thanks, Toa Obvious," Lariska snapped at Ancient, still glaring at the Shadowed One as he was shaking his soaked trenchcoat. He finally looked at her.

"Be more careful next time, Lariska," he said, "drowning is not a death you deserve."

Lariska scoffed. More like, her proficiency was still required. The Shadowed One was looking down at his dark grey trenchcoat, now a mess, and sighed. "And, you're welcome."

She wiped her mouth vigorously and coughed harshly, slowly stumbling up from the wet floor.

"Well, if you didn't, Ancient would have saved me," she patted him on his chest armor, "isn't that right?"

"I'm not going to take sides."

Lariska would have laughed if she was in a better mood, or even if she could. Her throat was soar and stinging, and her voice sounded akin to a laughable croak. Shaking her head, she tried to get the woozy feeling out of her system. Suddenly, the reality of the situation returned to her. The huntress jerked away from the two and looked around. A cold, wet stone floor was beneath her. Ruined pillars and ancient stone remains towered all around her. Beyond some rubble, the ocean water crashed against the island. And that dark disturbed sky above them. She inhaled sharply and swung to the Shadowed One.

"We're marooned? The crew…?"

"Yes, the ship crashed—sunk before we even made it to land, is a preferred way to explain it," he replied, "the crew is dead. Any survivors will not last long. I'm not wasting my time looking for their corpses."

"Glorious." Lariska groaned and sat down on a nearby rock slab, flinging her arms about as the salty water flew off her body. She slowly looked up at Ancient earnestly. That swindler with his boots…allowing him to stay above the water and be virtually dry. Ancient raised an eyebrow at her, already reading her thoughts. He sighed and took off his cloak, handing it too her.

"We made it to the island, however," the Shadowed One continued, looking about the grayed landscape. "This apparently used to be a temple of sorts."

Lariska squinted, inspecting the landscape in further detail. The land seemed to be strictly made of stone. Everything was grey. No colours, no life. If it was a temple, it was an extremely uninspiring one.

Everything looked completely artificial. Decaying in a forgotten region where no life seemed to be allowed to live. Neither did it seem to be of any Matoran or familiar species' architect. It didn't seem part of this world—the sensation made her mentally shudder. She felt as if they were floating between a dream and reality.

**:::**

The fire burned modestly, however not as strong or warm enough for the huntress' taste. She clung as tightly as she could onto Ancient's blue cloak and glared distantly into the fire's mildly chaotic flames. It was a wonder they had even found decent wood for it. It seemed that they were not the only unfortunate souls to crash onto these unknown grounds.

And here, Lariska sat on a rock trying to stay warm as her jumpsuit and armor lay over a rock beside her drying. Usually Lariska would be jumpy and impatient—however, she strangely felt mellow and content sitting here, falling deep in her thoughts about the war and the recent dilemma. Lariska chose not to take part in the dispute that was going on beside a lone pillar down the pathway.

The Shadowed One believed Helryx did this on purpose. Ancient disagreed. He strongly argued that it was not a Toa's way to do such a thing. Even with Helryx's savagery, she would not get rid of a faction during such desperate times. Worrying about revenge or anything of the sort would be a waste of time. They seemed to have opposite opinions on the matter, which Lariska found odd. Ancient usually was not like this. But since the mission was assigned, he was troubled. The admitted edginess of the usual composed hunter made the mission seem all too uneasy.

Finally after some dragging minutes, they settled the debate—if the Shadowed One's charismatic persuading (or bribery?) counted as an agreement—and the strange land returned to its mysterious state as they parted ways.

The oldest Dark Hunter was gone scouting the area, and now the small campsite they had just erected was eerily quiet. Lariska began to fidget, playing with her damp black hair, until the sound of footsteps came around the large wall they were situated beside. She clutched the cloak tighter around her, glaring at the Shadowed One who seemed much more irritated at the speed of his trenchcoat drying. She was honestly amused at the sight. The Shadowed One did not exaggerate classy clothing, but he did not loathe it either. She enjoyed the sight of the impervious Leader now looking as rugged as any Dark Hunter recruit.

And interestingly enough, without his elegant armor and trenchcoat, he was much frailer than he let on. He was a naturally tall type, but he seemed much less intimidating with lack of muscles to make up for the height. Under his damp red open dress shirt, she could make out a scarred, beaten body. It was a rare sight to see him like this. If it was any other hunter than her, he would have grudgingly stayed soaking. Lariska pondered if his current state of health wasn't tied with the incident with the Makuta those years ago—

"Lariska."

His voice jolted her out of the thoughts. She slowly looked up at him and he smirked. She assumed he was not the only one having a bad hair day.

"You're unusually still. You're thinking deeply, and have not spoken in over thirty minutes—these qualities are quite disturbing in you."

Lariska glared at him so harshly, that she thought she could almost throw her daggers at him as if she possessed the Kanohi Matatu. She finally stood up and slipped her hand from the cloak, twirling a finger at him. If she was going to snap and end up punching him, she would rather do it with garments on.

"Turn around. My clothes are dry enough."

He shrugged, turned around to face in an open direction of the area, surveying the ruins and the coarse waves out in the ocean. He was already starting to zip up his own shirt as Lariska spoke from him behind.

"What's the plan?"

"We're going to explore around. With all the wreckage and strange environment…this is not a normal island. We'll see if we can find anything of value here first before moving on—Ancient told me earlier that there are plenty of beaten small boats around here that we can fix up and get back to society."

Lariska rolled her eyes as she zipped up her loose green jumpsuit. What society? But then again, this island wasn't exactly a place she would plan a vacation. In fact by now, she didn't care much for the 'mission'. She wanted off.

"This place seems barren already," she responded, "unless you like piles of old rock."

"Ah, but there is one flaw in that," he turned around and picked up his trenchcoat, ignoring Lariska's glare. "Very few—if any have made it off this island. Who knows what we will find in this temple."

Lariska ran her robotic hand through her hair, and raised an eyebrow.

"Sure. What makes you think we can get off this island when they didn't?"

He was already almost fully armored again. He pulled on his glove, and his one red eye coolly studied her.

"Because. They're not us."

**:::**

Rested and dry, the two rejoined with Ancient who they found not far away from the campsite. He was motionless, his head focused upward to the dark sky, his orange eyes surveying everything intently. A cool wind had picked up, and it seemed a storm was brewing.

He turned to look at Lariska quietly, his frizzed hair fluttering around. Lariska handed back a rather damp blue cloak to him. He sighed, observing it, and then preceded to put it back on.

"I know sharing is hard for you, Ancient," Lariska said, "but you wouldn't want me to be soaking in my clothes."

"Well, you really did not need the cloak to get dry—"

Lariska used her robotic arm, and struck the elbow into an open part of his chest armor. He cringed and grunted painfully.

"You're too old for those jokes."

"Enough."

The two looked toward The Shadowed One. He was glaring off distantly, north of them, looking at something particular. One building deep in the forest of rubble had not completely succumbed to broken earth. The slim tip of it pointed upward distinctly.

"Odd how I never saw that before," he mused to himself. Still looking away, he waved his hand. "Come on."

The trio trudged on through the rubble, keeping their eyes on the peak of the building. Ever so slowly, it grew closer and closer, and the peak was looking even more ominous with each step they took. Lariska wanted to strike a debate. She didn't see the purpose of them going any further and wasting energy, when they should be looking for a way off the island. But there is no changing the Shadowed One's mind when he sets himself up for a task. His one red eye glared strictly to their destination, his features rigid and impassive. He would probably ignore her if she did attempt to argue.

Before she knew it, they were standing before the momentous main temple…or whatever it really was. She was staring face to face with a lone statue. It stood a good three feet taller than her—in honesty, it wasn't much taller than Ancient, but excluding her short frame the strange figure towered with a ominous superiority. A creature that looked like a Toa under a long robe, but its visage was off. Toa were naturally handsomely built with that disgusting heroic expression constantly stamped on their face—this one seemed sick. Not in an evil manner, but the disillusionment in the blank eyes seemed to perfectly portray this entire island. The sheer detail in the statue alone made her wonder if he just wasn't turned into stone right there.

His hand was outstretched toward her, it looked like he was holding something, but she could only guess what it was. The hand had fallen off the crumbling rock, and the piece was nowhere in sight.

A finger snap brought her attention back. She turned, and The Shadowed One was already beginning to walk up the stairs of the building. It didn't occur to her that she had spent so long looking at the ruined statue…she didn't even focus on the building itself. And what a horrific sight that was.

Thousand and thousands of carvings were both crudely and beautifully engraved in the sullied rock. She could spend hours staring at them all and only could piece together a handful. They depicted surprisingly familiar scenes—a Toa holding an orb of fire in his hand. Another, a rueful looking skakdi was holding up a large weapon. A Matoran weaving baskets as fire raged behind her. There were many depictions she had not a clue what, where, or who the carvers were depicting.

The finger snap came again. She saw Ancient glaring at her; this was him 'politely' telling her to stop daydreaming and to catch-up before The Shadowed One got even more edgy with the situation.

Lariska admitted to herself she had no idea why she was suddenly so fascinated—she hated history, she hated standing still, she really wasn't one for art either. As she started regaining her old mood and rushed up the stairs to attempt to beat the others, her mind wondered. Maybe it wasn't fascination, but rather something inside her making her realize how dicey this place was.

It was dark, damp, cold…a more dark. The door had been pushed aside by the two men of the party, and Lariska was the first to dive in to scout. Even with the light from the outside world shining in, for some reason it did not make it far into the entrance. She wasn't even a hundred feet away when she realized she was surrounded in a soupy abyss. She turned her head, seeing the door was still indeed back there…but it was like the temple was sucking up any light that dared to venture forth.

"Okay, I scouted. I don't see anything interesting. Let's go."

Lariska was promptly marching back to the door when The Shadowed One grabbed her shoulder and spun her around.

"Don't tell me you're afraid?"

"'Afraid' isn't in my dictionary, sir," she retorted, "but 'intelligence' is. How do we know if we're walking into an ambush? How about zillion year old booby-traps? Worst of all, what if we waste all our time and energy digging in here and to only realize it's just a discarded building like everything else around here?"

The Shadowed One shrugged complacently, fixing the armor attachments on his arm. "Only way to find out."

"By stubbing your toe in here, yeah," she crossed her arms, "this isn't like a story book where torches magically—"

A bright flash of light blinded her momentarily. When she got accustomed to it, she stared dumbly at Ancient holding an old torch he had found on the ground, a modest fire dancing on it.

"Oh—_COME ON_!" Lariska roared. "Ancient, why did you do that to me?"

"I wasn't listening, my apologies." He said deprecatingly, turning around to face the passageway. Lariska was glad for that at least—her face was as red as The Shadowed One's eye.

"Well if we get eaten by a Kardas or the Shadowed One breaks his delicate body tripping over a rock..." she grumbled, sulking behind as they began to walk deeper in.

For a long time they walked, no turns or other passages in sight. Empty bleak walls, nothing embellishing it whatsoever. Only the fire flickering overzealous shadows against the walls and floors were of interest to the eye. It was a long, uneventful trudge in a seemingly empty duct.

Right when Lariska was about to go crazy with the dead silence, Ancient lurched to a stop. The Shadowed One nearly crashed into him as he flung his arms about to gain his balance. The Dark Hunter leader growled, fixed his hair and was about to yell empty threats at his associate, when his voice was neglected as his eyes took charge.

They had entered in a vast, circular room. There seemed to be no other exit than the one they entered it. It was bare, completely bare. Except...once again, they were faced with thousands and thousands of more carvings all over the place. They seemed different from the ones on the outside. Lariska couldn't place her finger on why. Maybe it was because of the lifeless feeling they admitted in the claustrophobic room. It almost seemed like at any second, the ancient carvings would suddenly become animated, with thousands of little voices whispering in pain, happiness, anger…

Lariska froze. What in Mata Nui's name was going on? Why was she thinking like that? Did she hear voices? No…it must be a current of air or echoes of their footsteps. She swung around desperately, trying to find the source…on one of the walls, she saw three figures in a frame on the wall dying—they looked just like the trio—hands outstretched for something…

_Something_ padded sharply against her cheek. She blinked vacantly, staring at the Shadowed One's red eye and eyepatch. He lowered his gloved hand and exhaled.

"If you're going to stand there like a deaf matoran and ignore us, just go back to the camp."

It took her a second to realize what had happened. She lurched away from him, glaring angrily.

"What? Is this a joke? Didn't you two hear that?"

They looked around, then back at her with obvious puzzlement.

"Lariska, dear," The Shadowed One began, "surely you realize..."

"Stop it!" She sneered. She jerked away and ran toward the wall that she saw the figures.

"I saw us on this wall! We were dead…but all of them were talking…talking…" she froze, both realizing she could not find the carving, and that she sounded mad. She swung her hands against the wall and leaned against them, breathing unsteadily.

In the back of her head, she knew the two would be having no tolerance for a crazy woman. If Lariska was either of them, she would have punched herself in the face and yelled to snap out of it.

But instead she noticed the Shadowed One was leaning down at her stooped form, uncomprehendingly analyzing her. He cocked his head slightly, looking at the wall and then back at her.

"Lariska—"

"Fine, you win. I hit my head really hard against that—"

"Lariska." He repeated her name much more harshly. Clearly that was not the issue. He grabbed her by the hand, and jerked her away from the wall. She spun to see that he had saw something where she was leaning—on the wall, was another horrifying image.

This frame was much larger than the others…etched out of the old stone, it seemed as if some sort of liquid had been stretched out of the ground, and was growing out like abstract snakes, curling and twisting about in a strange choking wave.

Ancient started to walk backwards, raising the torch higher. His eyes stared at the patterns, his eyes slowly looked up, and around as he made his way to the center of the spherical crypt.

"This isn't just for show," he started, voice echoing. "They are all connected."

Lariska and the Shadowed One strode to where he was standing, and began to follow his gaze. Once their eyes adjusted, they saw more of those sickly vines all over the wall—they were connecting the other pictures together…and they were linking—the Shadowed One pursed his lips, the muscles in his body tightened.

"It's a language," Ancient muttered.

"What does it say?" Lariska grimaced. The strange feeling in her stomach was returning.

"I've never seen anything like this—it's almost like—"

Before their eyes, a black blur had rammed into Ancient's side, and he flew to the other side of the room, ramming into the wall. Before Lariska could even grab for her daggers, the black blur came charging right in front of her eyes at the speed of a Kakama. It swarmed around and with a horrifying realization, it was all over her…she couldn't even scream a warning or a simple scream of fear as it began to seep and curl over her. The feeling was unforgettable. It was as if shadows could feel physical…a burning tar oozed over her, thousand of voices screeching as it clung to her face.

Through the cyclone that had shrouded her, for a second she saw The Shadowed One still in the center, glaring at her with an expression—a look that escaped him only a number of times. Fear.

She saw him mouth her name, but she couldn't hear anything. She tried to outstretch her hand to him—she felt his gloved hand snatch her fingertips almost immediately.

The only feeling of consolation was torn away from her the very second she thought he had her. The monstrous thing swarmed over him, and then it began to wrap around her head tightly—over her mouth, wrapping around her eyes…it felt like it was trying to tear her soul out of her body.

For a second time in one day, she fell into darkness.


End file.
